Just a Little Bit of Your Heart.

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Creativity is running amok. I find myself alternating between music., writing, and painting.The waves are crashing down on me hard. I may drown in a tide full of ideas, musical notes, and acrylics..My mind is a chaotic place full of tension. It never rest.and the bit** won’t shut up.  Creativity is my way of transforming the mess that is my brain into something beautiful;. I don’t always succeed, but I will forever try.

I’m currently in performance mode..

My cover of “Just a Little Bit of Your Heart”

I Cried.

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I swear I am not as angst filled as my poetry might suggest. 🙂

I Cried.

I cried for you.

Drenching my pillow.

Liquid fragments of a broken soul.

They left a trail from my heart to my cheek.

so much angst and sorrow.

a ballad of a dark kind of madness.

Tears falling down.

Each drop a cadence of gut wrenching pain.

The reverberation of nothing and everything.

Crashing down.

In a crescendo of grief.

Leaving me mute.

My version of “Clean”

MUSIC doth uplift me like a sea

solitude-143933637_b0ae5c9f63_oMUSIC by Charles Baudelaire
MUSIC doth uplift me like a sea
Towards my planet pale,
Then through dark fogs or heaven’s infinity
I lift my wandering sail.

With breast advanced, drinking the winds that flee,
And through the cordage wail,
I mount the hurrying waves night hides from me
Beneath her sombre veil.

I feel the tremblings of all passions known
To ships before the breeze;
Cradled by gentle winds, or tempest-blown

I pass the abysmal seas
That are, when calm, the mirror level and fair
Of my despair!

My latest covers.

Reflections Of My Life

Artwork by Tosha Michelle

PicsArt_1428258514208“You can’t stop the future. You can’t rewind the past The only way to learn the secret …is to press play.”

“If people refuse to look at you in a new light and they can only see you for what you were, only see you for the mistakes you’ve made, if they don’t realize that you are not your mistakes, then they have to go.”
Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

“Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself; I am large — I contain multitudes.”
Walt Whitman

Change is an organic thing that that happens every minute, every day, and everywhere. We as people are not meant to stay static.  We may grow up but we should never stop maturing and expanding our hearts and minds.   We shouldn’t be held captive by the past or how people perceive us. We create and radiate our own unique way of being.

In some ways we are always changing but yet staying the same.  When I look back at the me from yesteryear, I still see the same quirky, awkward, random, sentimental girl. I also see a woman who has a wealth of experience, who has endured illness, heartache and loss, but also experienced wonderful life-altering adventures. My journey has taken me out of my comfort zone and into a world of growth and enlightenment. It doesn’t hurt that I have been blessed with the love and unwavering support of family and friends. These people teach me so much every day.

I still process information the same way, but experience has altered the way I interpret that information.  Every day reveals a new layer of character. The years are teaching me and molding me into a better version of myself. I embrace getting older and look forward to one day being a, “wise old soul.” Emerson said “As we grow old the beauty steals inward.” What a beautiful sentiment.

A work in process is what I will always be. I’m still evolving. I hope that never changes, even as I change. However, I know what I stand for and who I am.  Uncertainty has no place in my inner world. It’s a gift where decisions become easier, temptations become less, and confidence grows stronger.

Upon a Time…Once.

My cover of Taylor Swift’s Wildest Dreams

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Sublime Ends

Remember at the station, waiting

On the train, on that sultry summer day?

We stood lost in an embrace, breathing in

each other that way. that awful, terrible,

perfect mad and delicious way that took us

to the shrouded place.

Remember at the station that day, waiting

on the train, as the wind hummed a lovers tune?

She sang of sublime ends, from supple beginnings.

the alluring medley of serenity in a war of rhyme

on the sharp bloody edge of Neverland and Narnia,

the peaceful enchanting interlude of rage & myth.

Remember at the station, that day, as

the train churned closer and we cussed goodbye

His steam a prelude to our eternal kiss, the sun

soaked, never ending fuel of light, of love, of

heat. Basking and bathing,

merged and emerged and submerged,

Dancing and swaying in time

with golden chariot and the huntress.

Remember at the station that day, as

the train tugged away, on a endless track?

We gazed as it came — as it came — as it went

through the crossroads. We did not know,

our own separate, distant destinations,. Our own

rail-less wild paths cut into unimagined mountainsides

You to the west, me to the east.

Remember the station that day as

the train, conducted our last kiss?

That gaping wound where our lips met. Where

we learned cruel fate is hot love and all love is

the calamity of UN-armored battle. We all go under

wrong or right. Each of us blankets miles and the ground

is nothing but a shifting litter with irascible iridescent hope

and hurt-dulled dreams, unfulfilled plans and schemes.

Remember the station that day, waiting

in twilight until we forgot and traveled on, and on

alone, with only prayers of new Twilight to set

in stony slumber with hard solace of old loves loss

then found again.

-Tosha Michelle

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Random thoughts, music and more of my artwork.

Song of the day.

I’ve been in a non stop creative mood. The muses are strong with me. Creativity in overdrive. I want to write, to paint, to make music….there’s a vitality, a life force, and energy, moving within me. I want to transform ..to move…to BE.
I’m such a dork!

This is my cover of Sting’s Fields of Gold.

I won my first ever Gabie. The category.

The Krispy Kreme award

such an honor. (tears) 😉

Sexual Healing. 

Sex shouldn’t be a commodity or used as leverage or bait.
It’s shouldn’t be a means of exploitation or slut shaming.
It should be consensual and physical but not one dimensional
For me it’s spiritual, soulful,-a expression of life and love.
It’s emotional-rooted in commitment and true intimacy.
Society encourages us to settle for less
The media, music, television, tells us sex is just a feel good feeling.
Pleasure alone.
But true fulfillment comes when we combine the physical with the emotional.

This is just one flawed romantic’s view.

“Your naked body should only belong to those who fall in love with your naked soul.” ― Charles Chaplin

“We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in the slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”
C.S. Lewis

Artsy

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Artist

Comings and Goings.

The Life and Times of a Brat Called Tosha.

. I’m currently working on a new book. It is a self help parody. The title. Self Help to Self Harm; The Dubious Guide to Life, Love, and Relationships.  It’s a mixture of serious and silliness. ( much like the author)  I’m also working on a new book of poetry.

In academic news, I’ve decided to pursue a PhD in history. Yes, I am a masochist.

On the music front, I just did a cover of Someone to Watch Over Me. I hope you will give a listen. See below.  This blog has been entirely too Tosh centered. Next time, I promise to focus on topics that really matter- chocolate and guys name Tad.

Fields of Gold.

My cover of Sting’s Fields of Gold.

Choice

By Angela Morgan

I’d rather have the thought of you
To hold against my heart,
My spirit to be taught of you
With west winds blowing,
Than all the warm caresses
Of another love’s bestowing,
Or all the glories of the world
In which you had no part.

I’d rather have the theme of you
To thread my nights and days,
I’d rather have the dream of you
With faint stars glowing,
I’d rather have the want of you,
The rich, elusive taunt of you
Forever and forever and forever unconfessed
Than claim the alien comfort
Of any other’s breast.

O lover! O my lover,
That this should come to me!
I’d rather have the hope of you,
Ah, Love, I’d rather grope for you
Within the great abyss
Than claim another’s kiss-
Alone I’d rather go my way
Throughout eternity.